The Beginning of the End
by Engar
Summary: The legacy of the warriors who fought to defend the Earth is long forgotten. Hundreds of years have passed by, the world has changed. This is the story of one man, forsaken by the passage of time, and his journey to reclaim the past he has lost.
1. Awakening

The wind whistles above the clear blue ocean, water curling upwards towards it. It swirls around tall buildings; dives under fast moving vehicles; burns in some places, freezes in others. Finally, as it always does, the wind finds it way to one lonely island out far from land.  
  
Sitting neatly on the island is a small hut, small but still taking up a significant part of the tiny piece of land. Once there had been a bright house standing on this ground, where a ramshackle hut built out of wood cut down from the tropical plants that usually grew near the seaside.  
  
The wind curls around the hut in a protective manner, tying ribbons round it as it draws closer. Inside the hut it shoots, through the cracks and the open door that is never locked, to where an old friend waits. Wind - ancient as time but faster than most can comprehend - has never before noticed any living creature.  
  
This one is different though; this one has been here for centuries yet is still capable of outrunning the very wind itself. It curls around the frail body, swirling upwards, catching the torn fabric that clothes the figure only enough for decencies sake. The wind plays with its short white beard, twisting the hairs as a lover might.  
  
This creature that once was a man, once was a father, once was a warrior. This creature is the only friend that the wind ever knew; it is devoted to him, as he is devoted to it. A lip curls upwards into something resembling a smile, skin cracked and dry.  
  
The water that it drinks comes from the wind.  
  
The food that he eats finds its way to him by way of the wind.  
  
His only friend.  
  
His only remaining friend.  
  
An old hand stretches out, fingers caressing the moving air.  
  
Somewhere out there lie other friends; friends who's names are as faded as his own. Who they were; what they did; how they came to leave him - it was all hidden from him. All that he knew was that they were his friends at one point. Now there was only the wind.  
  
Fingers collapsed into a fist, clenching so hard that the skin of his knuckles turned white.  
  
There were no names. No names at all, not even for himself.  
  
Legs creaked and groaned, complaining as the figure straightened up. The bones were old and weary but he persevered. The problems were strong but he was stronger, his will a hardened diamond.  
  
All that he knew was that he was old yet did not die.  
  
Arms dropped to his side, one leg lifted and moved forwards slowly.  
  
All that he knew was that he was tired yet he did not die.  
  
The foot dropped firmly against the grassy earth that carpeted his home, the other leg lifted and swung forwards.  
  
All that he knew was that there were answers buried in his mind.  
  
Arms reached out and threaded through the wind, stroking it as a master would his pet.  
  
All that he knew was that he needed the answers.  
  
His face finally lifted out of the shadows and left the dark safety of the hut. The sun burned his eyes, seared his skin.  
  
All he knew was that he was terrified.  
  
The figure weakens, his shoulders slump, his bones groan, his will seems broken.  
  
All he knows is that the sun is bright and he cannot face it.  
  
As he did every day, the figure turns and steps back into the hut.  
  
There was nothing for him out there.  
  
Buildings shattered; birds fell from the sky; storms were brought down on continents, raging as the wind mourned for its only friend. Every day went the same - nothing could be done. The wind could only sustain him - it could not help him.  
  
His feet weak, he stumbles inside, allowing light past him and someway into the room. The rays strain, picking out the shining of stones, grass, glass.  
  
He stops.  
  
Glass?  
  
He bends down, old hands reaching for something that could not be there.  
  
Smooth to the touch, slightly warm as if it had just been released.  
  
The figure straightens up and turns, hands cradling the object as if it was more precious than all the treasures of the world.  
  
As if it was a lifeline.  
  
He turns, tears rolling down the wrinkled skin of his cheeks, and steps into the sun once again. It burns as it always does and always will. His hands raise upwards, the object catching the light.  
  
He lowers his hands down over his face then pulls them away.  
  
Eyes close.  
  
The memories pour into his head - old synapses crackling with old information; faces appearing out of the darkness; a self rising up and claiming it's body again.  
  
Eyes open.  
  
Fists clench. Head rises. Bones and muscles protest for a moment, then shunt backwards as that diamond will plows right through them. Figure straightens and turns straight towards the sun.  
  
The rays flash straight into him, bouncing off his gleaming hairless head, dancing and splintering as they hit the dark glass of the sunglasses. His muscles stretch and contract as he tests his body, assessing it.  
  
He turns his head sharply, neck cracking, then swivels it around and smiles.  
  
The wind swirls around him, prodding him curiously. He strokes it: It's alright; it's all going to be alright now.  
  
Muscles stretch across his face, the Turtle Master Muten Roshi looks straight into the sun and grins.  
  
There are still questions - much is missing. But he is in there, deep down, and with that to guide him, Roshi can find more.  
  
The wind swirls away, all is well now. Besides it needs to get out of the way quickly.  
  
The ground shakes beneath his feet, sand and dirt tearing off and twisting around him as Roshi called upon the energy he knows lies within him. Ki flows through his body once again, rejuvenating the old bones. His feet swing forwards, moving with ease now, and taking him towards where he knows the closest piece of land to be.  
  
(And standing lightly on the ramshackle hut, a youth with pure green skin and pointed ears watches his progress with a contented smile.)  
  
Onward the figure strides, browned body moving with more strength than he has had in centuries. And before him the ocean parts, water pouring upwards on both sides as if terrified to be in his way.  
  
The old Master is back.  
  
(OOC: Not the start of the series, though I do seem to imply it. This one just popped into my head one night, Muten Roshi is immortal but is that a blessing or a curse? Of course there are quite a few inconsistencies, for instance Android 18, Roshis sister and Korin are immortal (not sure about 18 actually) so why would he lose all contact with the outside world?  
  
I assume if I ever get it into my head to continue on this I'd find ways of explaining it though I seem to be having trouble continuing anything I write. I swear I'll try and finish at least one story though: this, Sacrifices or another one I've got hiding on my PC.  
  
Anyway suggestions, critiques and opinions would be greatly appreciated.  
  
Thanks for reading.) 


	2. A Changed World

"That's weird."  
  
Sitting up sharply and casting his gaze out across the sparkling blue ocean, the security guard - Robby printed in bold letters on his name tag - tapped a small device on the side of his face and focussed through the green tinted lens which covered his right eye. There was something out there, well above average, but he couldn't see a thing.  
  
One fat, stubby fingered hand reached out towards the console that sat on his desk and tapped a button, a transparent screen shimmering into existence before his eyes.  
  
Robby had taken the job for the security and the nice climate; on his breaks he chose to sit on the beach and just watch the water, occasionally he even fished. There were much worse places to be than the sunny coast and since there were no big cities or military bases in the area it would be a poor choice of invasion. All there was here for miles around was wilderness.  
  
A better word for his job would be sentry.  
  
"Computer, I'd like a scan of the ocean around here. I'm looking for above average signals."  
  
The screen shimmered again, then disappeared. In its place hovered a semi- transparent map of the coast. There was only one signal (Robby himself wasn't anywhere near strong enough to show up), around 1000 and approaching the shore slowly. The trouble was, no matter what the computer or his scanner said, he couldn't see this thing.  
  
He looked to the sea again, fruitlessly; something that big would have to be visible by now, it was almost at the shore for Gods sake!  
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"Rephrase the question, please," what some might have expected to be a dull, monotone voice, was in fact a chirpy female.  
  
"Gah, what is the exact position of the energy signal?"  
  
"50 feet Southwest from and 10 feet below this terminal."  
  
The reality hit him like a cold shower.  
  
"A sub!"  
  
It was completely out of the blue, no one had said anything to him about enemy activity. Of course there was always some tension on the news but he hadn't thought something like this was on the way. A sub with some 1000 level warrior inside or-  
  
As his mind began to fill with all the horrible possibilities - a dozen super strong warriors who have powered down to their least, they say the best soldiers aren't able to keep their signal down any lower than 300 - he tried to force his mouth to work. This was what his job was for, just another of the guards that stood watch on part of the coast, and he couldn't do anything!  
  
They only kept humans on duty in case of emergency, there was always the risk of a malfunction, and this had to be one because otherwise the alarms would have-  
  
"Enemy targeted, activating 1st level of defence."  
  
The air in front of his tiny office shimmered as if some great heat was being held under it then from a metal hatch just inside of the shield popped a small sentry gun. To the untrained observer it looked like some sort of modified water cannon with at least half a dozen tubes connecting into the back.  
  
It swivelled until the cannon was pointed towards the beach, adjusting its level slightly. Then the energy began to gather, Robby had just enough sense to switch off his scouter before it was destroyed by the sudden increase. Whoever or whatever was down there, it wouldn't be down there for very long.  
  
When the gun fired it was somewhat anti-climactic, a small yellow sphere of energy shot forth and sank into the ocean with only a slight sizzle to show its passing. Peering out the window, Robby waited for the explosion that the blast should have caused.  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"Activating 2nd level of defence."  
  
From both sides of the sentry gun two smaller guns popped out and focussed along the same line of fire. The trio began firing a volley of smaller blasts, causing the ocean to bubble, but Robby wasn't paying attention any more. Shining like an emerald, the little blip was steadily approaching the shore. Glancing back to the water, muttering under his breath, Robby estimated that what ever it was would break through the surface any second.  
  
The computer would have automatically alerted the higher authorities, there was no reason for him to stay. His feet weren't listening though; they were quite happy where they were. So he stayed and watched with terrified eyes, as the water retreated from all sides of where the blasts were being fired. From his point of view it was almost as if the ocean was being forced aside.  
  
Then appeared the old man, his white wiry beard shaking slightly in the wind of his own energy, sun sparkling off his smooth bald head, ragged clothes rustling as he moved. His rational brain screamed at him that this couldn't possibly be the source of the energy but was overruled, something deep down inside was sending odd messages. Part of him wanted to run; the other wanted to bow.  
  
Whoever he was, his power level wasn't huge by any standards but it was high enough for the energy blasts the sentry-gun was sending his way to spatter harmlessly off the palm of his outstretched hand. The computer was already taking into account the substantial increase in its enemy's power; Robby could dimly hear it shunting all the way up to level 6.  
  
Level 6?  
  
Level 6?!  
  
Stumbling backwards in spite of the paralysing fear, Robby nearly tripped over his chair in eagerness to get out of the door. He stumbled into the outside and, with only a frightened glance towards the old man, darted around the other side of the small building. His car was sitting just where he left it and, wheezing slightly from the exertion, he yanked the door open and dropped into his seat.  
  
Level 6 was the guns highest level, only to be used when both the computer and at least two high-ranking officers back in home base agreed that it was absolutely necessary. The machine must have contacted home base the minute the true power of the mysterious old man became obvious.  
  
Robby pressed his thumb against the small pad behind the joystick, only to be met with a distressed 'whur-whur-whur.' He tried again then once more; tears of frustration leaking down his cheeks as he willed the car into working.  
  
"Please!"  
  
He looked back towards the building where the fight had slowed, both of the side guns were still firing - he could tell that much by ear - but the main gun was charging up. Adjusting the scanner to its highest setting and switching it on; Robby watched in horror as the gargantuan power of the main gun climbed towards 10,000. There was no way anything in the area would survive a blast like that.  
  
Hands grasping the door handle, Robby was just beginning to think that he might survive if he ran as fast as he could when the world went white. His last thought, as his car was torn from the ground and he lost consciousness, the shattering off the scouter filling his ears, was that he hadn't even known who the old man was.  
  
* * *  
  
There was a crackling sound close by, for a second fear gripped him, whispered of a burning wreck, but then settled down when the feeling of sand scratched against his skin and the sound of a log splitting cracked through his mind.  
  
The first surprise for Robby was that he wasn't dead, some parts certainly seemed to wish they were dead but on the whole he was still a living, breathing creature. His second surprise was that he wasn't that badly hurt, beyond the bump that had knocked him out he couldn't feel any impaled limbs or missing fingers.  
  
The reason that all this came by feel was that Robby refused point blank to open his eyes. He was alive and outside of the car, which suggested that someone had dragged him from the wreckage. And since he knew of only one person in close proximity to himself, he knew for a fact who that 'someone' was.  
  
"You.." It was more than a wheeze than anything else but the sound behind it was still the clear. If any word could be picked to describe the voice, old would be right up there. And cracked and dry and a dozen others that added to the already well embedded feeling of age.  
  
"You don't have to keep your eyes closed, son," some of the words sounded strained, as if they were making noises that hadn't been used for a long time, almost as if the speaker was out of practice, "just little old me."  
  
There was another wheezing noise but this one sounded like the attempt of a chuckle.  
  
Robby opened one eye and peered around, taking in first the dark night sky that hung above his head. His eye swivelled downwards, pausing for a second on the fire, then continued along until it came to rest on the old man sitting cross-legged across from him.  
  
In one hand the old man held a branch, two fish skewered on the end of it, while the other was raised level to his waist and bobbing up and down - he didn't appear to be paying Robby any mind at all.  
  
"Son, the day someone can fool me into thinking they're asleep is the day I go to bed with a shovel." The words were certainly coming easier to the old timer but not once did he glance in Robby's direction. For himself, Robby didn't mind. There was something odd about the branch but he couldn't quite place it.  
  
"So are you going to sit up or should I eat dinner by myself?"  
  
Suspicion gave way to hunger and, gently because his head was still pounding, he eased himself up into a sitting position. Robby was still suspicious but his stomach was growling and that took precedent.  
  
"They aren't done yet so calm yourself," the old timer stared through his dark sunglasses into the fire, "how about an introduction?"  
  
One hand strayed down to his nametag only to find it along with most of his jacket missing.  
  
"Sorry bout that, I'm still getting used to myself."  
  
It was an odd comment at the best of times but Robby didn't feel like picking up on it, he was missing the jacket already. He wasn't the smallest of men and without the jacket he was beginning to feel.. naked. His stomach growled in self-defence, it always did when he was feeling down.  
  
"For Kami's sake, it's not like you couldn't stand to lose a couple of pounds."  
  
It was there in an instant, the words hanging fragilely in the air like glass. No one ever talked about Robby's weight though it was quite obvious, it was just taken as a given that he didn't want to discuss it. And they were right, he didn't. Anyone who ever mentioned it apologised within a second of realising what they had said. He actually found himself waiting for it.  
  
"You do like fish don't you?"  
  
He nodded dumbly and edged closer to the fire. Then, with his mind dancing about partly in anger and partly in wonder, something clicked.  
  
"My names Robby and that's a nice branch you've got there."  
  
The old man finally glanced away from the fire but Robby could still see it, dancing in the reflections of his shades.  
  
"It is indeed, if you don't mind me asking why did you pick up on it?"  
  
Robby nodded towards the trees that dotted along the coast,  
  
"Palm trees all the way unless you go pretty deep into the countryside. Palm trees don't have branches."  
  
The old man grinned, light shining between his few but gleaming teeth,  
  
"The name is Roshi. You're quite a bright lad, aren't you?"  
  
Robby shrugged, eyeing the firewood now. There was a blue tint to the flames that suggested salt; that meant driftwood and that was a pretty lucky find on beaches which had appeared clear this morning. Robby looked back at Roshi, watching as the old man stroked the air with his free hand.  
  
"Now," Roshi set the fish down on a log a couple of feet from the fire in order to let them cool, "What has been happening?"  
  
(OOC: An update in one day, who'd have thought? The credit goes to 'Digi fan' for giving me a review, spurned me to turn out another chapter.  
  
As an explanation of the change in style (mystical to.. well whatever) I'm beginning to seriously consider alternating between styles in each chapter. One Fan-Fic I've read and unfortunately forgotten the plot of had 3-4 different narrators and for each was their own unique style - something that really drew me into the story. I hope to at least partially imitate this; I'll be better as I work out each char.  
  
As always comments and critiques are welcome, needed even. Thanks for reading.) 


	3. History Lesson

The wind spiralled attentively around Roshis torso, pulling gently on the rags he was wearing. It was, he could tell, proud of itself. There was no reason why it shouldn't be; the fish, the firewood and the fork-like branch were all gifts for him. In the years that lay behind him he could remember wondering, before his mind sank down into the pit he was only yet part of the way out of, how to repay the wind for its kindness.  
  
He had come to realise some time ago that the only gift to give was one he had given in all their time together. Awareness. The wind longed for nothing more than someone to be with and Roshi fulfilled that duty every day. It wasn't even aware of the boys existence though Roshi thought, quite cynically, it seemed hard to miss him.  
  
Roshi knocked the thoughts back easily and sank a little closer to the fire, his old bones bathing in the heat. Glasses staring into the dancing flames - Roshi listened to the story of a world he no longer knew.  
  
There had been some confusion when Robby began to speak, Roshi had to make it clear that he wanted to know the history of the world spanning centuries instead of decades or years.  
  
The revolt had come some time 200 years ago, as far as Roshi could tell that was at least 400 years after whatever had happened, happened. It had come with enough warning preceding it - several parts of the World Government had been pressing for independence since before the grinning face of Son Goku disappeared from the Earth - but it had happened anyway. Military bases were seized, easily enough for war was nearly extinct at that point, and a barrage of missiles landed on the Palace.  
  
With most of the administration dead the World Government stumbled, the world rocked and since even at the best of times it is balancing on the curve of chaos, revolution took over the whole world. City-States and military bases declared themselves countries, islands banned all visitors, transportation became a thing of the past and through it all the revolutionaries surged into control.  
  
It took 2 years for the fighting to stop and 100 for the world to settle into something resembling a balance. With the borders settled and people more or less where they wanted to be, there was no more reason to fight. On top of that the incredible shielding technology that had protected the boy's sentry post was being used to guard all the major cities sites of importance against any large-scale attack. Still, while the people got on with their lives, the nations worried.  
  
They worried about their neighbours and what they were doing. They worried about their weakness. They worried about anything and everything and saw no solution apart from some new kind of weapon. That weapon came from Argonia; a small, insignificant little country nearby the north coast of the largest body of land in the world. It was a rocky, barren country with absolutely nothing going for it; it survived because no one else wanted it.  
  
The country discovered the lab in a routine scavenging operation - a common thing during the revolution and a tradition in the years afterwards - and it changed the course of things to come like no other event in the world. Most of the machines and devices that had been created there were useless, destroyed beyond repair with no way of fixing them.  
  
But, deep inside the mountain, further down than the outer labs, was a computer containing all the data that had been collected. Including evidence, theories and conclusions on Ki Manipulation.  
  
* * *  
  
"Gero"  
  
Roshi could feel the boys penetrating glare, he could almost hear the sound of the wheels turning. Not only an old man with incredible power, someone who knows history from 200 years ago; a mystery to be solved. It annoyed him that he had let himself slip but how could it be any better to keep secrets? He was alone in this world save for the wind and this 'Robby.'  
  
He nodded towards the boy to continue and, reluctantly, he did so.  
  
* * *  
  
It began, as most things do, with many failures. It was only discovered in the past 20 years how many failures there had been and how dangerous they had become. So many different methods had been employed: genetic manipulation, energy suits, hypnosis and so on - nothing worked.  
  
Argonia spent years working on what they knew to be their ticket to power and eventually came up with the programme they use today.  
  
All children are tested at birth and any with even a single point above the average power level are taken away for training. It went by without anyone realising it, every so often a child would mysteriously die and it was rare enough that no one ever looked into it. It was only 25 years after the programme began that what had happened came to light.  
  
Argonia started by attacking all three of its closest enemies: Merck, Golod and Freona. The attacks happened simultaneously, three teams of 5 warriors each appeared wherever the respective leaders were and, with some ceremony, killed them. Then the teams laid waste to a significant part of each army, taking out the missiles and air force in order to assure Argonia's safety. Within the week Argonia had swelled to encompass one eighth of the whole continent.  
  
The fact that the central part of Argonia was still a poor wasteland, almost bankrupt from devoting nearly all funds to the army, seemed unimportant now. With an army of soldiers who could create explosions and literally tear tanks in two it had become the strongest player in the international game.  
  
It didn't last for much more than a decade, the information on Ki Manipulation was leaked out to the rest of the world and soon every country had its own super strong warrior. Once again a balance came about, everyone knew how to scan for approaching warriors, everyone had the technology and men to fight them, everyone was even once again.  
  
The old Tenkachai Budokai was revived and - on the ground where the original Ki Warriors had fought some long forgotten battle, inside of Argonian territory - was held every 7 years. That went some way to easing the tension but the old worries were still strong. Argonia was still the strongest of all the countries with the best-trained warriors but it feared retribution for its violent acts.  
  
Everyone was afraid that some new weapon would appear, something to tip the balance and send the world back into chaos as the appearance of Ki Warriors very nearly did.  
  
* * *  
  
"But so far, nothing has happened."  
  
Roshi could feel the renewed ferocity of his companion's gaze but ignored it.  
  
Roshi could feel the tug of the wind, anxious to understand what bothered him but he ignored it.  
  
He knew in some vague way that the way he was thinking and acting weren't quite the same as how he had been. His understanding of this was more instinctual, something felt without words, but he trusted it. He could imagine that after 300 years of life, around the time that he had first met Goku, the moral constraints that bound others so tightly would have seemed inconsequential to him.  
  
After nearly a thousand years? That was only a guess as to how old he was now but he imagined that it was accurate enough. After being conscious for so long his mind appeared to have redesigned itself, the morals didn't matter any more but neither did the urges that they were meant to halt. He was beginning to wonder how long it would last. And whether he wanted it to last at all.  
  
"What country is this, out of interest?"  
  
"Helion, a tiny little country that occupies the peninsula that we are sitting on."  
  
Roshi nodded silently, not really caring about where he was. Helion, Argonia, Freona, it was all too different for him. At least in the past no matter where you were, you were in the World Government.  
  
"Is that all you want to know?"  
  
"At the moment, yeah."  
  
Roshi flopped backwards against the sand, staring up into the heavens. He loved the night sky, the stars sparkling against the satin cloth of the void, the little points that remained a constant during his lifetime. An unfortunate result of the battles that had taken place on Earth was that it wasn't much like the place he had grown up in; entire mountains were missing from it. On top of that cities had risen and destroyed themselves in the time that he had sat in his little hut. All he really had was the stars; they changed a lot slower than anything else.  
  
"Do I get to ask questions now?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Roshi smirked slightly at the antagonised sound that escaped from the boy's throat as a result of his simple response. He supposed the boy had every reason to be annoyed, after all Roshi had arrived uninvited into his quiet little life. Quiet, boring life if Roshi was any judge, why Goku and.. Krillen? Yes, Goku and Krillen would have jumped at the opportunity for some excitement. How could someone spend their time just sitting in a small room, staring out into the ocean day after day?  
  
"I think I've been very patient so far."  
  
"Yep."  
  
One hand waved gently and the wind that had been rustling in his ear died down, allowing him to hear the deep breath Robby took. The boy was calming himself down, thinking before he responded, going through what he would say before he said it. That was impressive and, of a security guard, unexpected. It gave the impression that there was more to the boy than was immediately apparent. He hoped that was so; that which was immediately apparent wasn't very impressive.  
  
"Will you answer my questions tomorrow?"  
  
Roshi grunted a non-committal response but Robby wouldn't accept it, he asked the question again.  
  
"I might, may I sleep now?"  
  
"I need to know the answer to one question right away."  
  
Roshi sighed but he was smiling on the inside, at least the boy was persistent.  
  
"What is it then?"  
  
The answer didn't come for a few seconds; the boy was obviously trying to get the wording of his last question so precise that Roshi would have to give him the information he wanted.  
  
"What is it you intend to do now?"  
  
The old man blinked and pushed himself up onto his elbows, studying Robby intently through the tainted glass of his sunglasses.  
  
There were two possible answers for that question, both were true but only one was what the boy needed. The first was a trite remark about sleeping and eating, a childish use of the flaw in the boys questioning that Robby had probably overlooked, it being too simple to consider. The second was the whole truth that he was uncomfortable about admitting as it revealed too much about himself and his weakness.  
  
To be unable to recall most of the details of his life was a terrifying thing but admitting it would make him appear feeble minded and he wasn't absolutely sure about what sort of person Robby was yet.  
  
"I will.." Roshi took a deep breath, conscious of the fact that he was emulating the boy, and continued.  
  
"I will seek out my sister, if she's still alive. I know for certain that she doesn't live here; she's far across the ocean to the west. Or at least that's where I remember her last being. We haven't had much contact."  
  
"Sibling squabbles?"  
  
"I can honestly say we don't get along too well."  
  
Robby disappeared before Roshi's very eyes, his considerable mass thumping against the sand as he laid his head down and stared upwards into the starry night.  
  
"I know what that's like, me and my brother have never got on."  
  
The wind dropped away completely at Roshi's silent signal, allowing him to catch the almost non-existent sigh.  
  
"Family squabbles are a natural thing," muttered Roshi, speaking only to give Robby an excuse to talk to himself.  
  
"We never got along, even as kids."  
  
Roshi laid his head down slowly, making as little noise as possible as he thought up a way to answer.  
  
"Children can be cruel."  
  
His eyes closed slowly, listening out for Robby's response while responding to another call, that of a tired body.  
  
"He was certainly that, in his own dumb way."  
  
Roshi stifled a yawn quickly but it had already done its treacherous work, loosening his joints, sending that sleepy signal to every part of his weary limbs. Still, he needed to keep up the flow.  
  
"Children grow up."  
  
The old man scratched at his scruffy beard, picking stray bits of seaweed that had become lodged in between the hairs.  
  
"He didn't, he just grew."  
  
This gave him reason to pause; there were dark harmonics in the way Robby said this that reached past the dulling part of his mind.  
  
"Big guy?"  
  
Blinking away the sleep, Roshi cocked his head slightly in order to see, almost out of sight, the side of Robby's body.  
  
"Ki Warrior, dad was never prouder.."  
  
Watching it shudder in bitterness and pain.  
  
Suddenly it was going to be a long night.  
  
* * *  
  
Lying there, listening to the easy breathes of his sleeping companion, Roshi thought about a world very different from the one he had been in before. And about a boy who was more than what he seemed.  
  
Abuse of power was something Roshi was all too aware of. In the back of his mind he could almost see the cringing figure of Krillen, a small boy who had been scared to death of the bullies of his old home. Imagine if those bullies had been truly skilled. Imagine if they had had control of Ki.  
  
It came from Argonia opening the doors of its 'Energy Manipulation Division' or the EMD to the public. After attacking the other countries that surrounded it, taking control of them by force, Argonia couldn't just take children from the hospitals any more. That had been an irrational act; something unthinkable and those responsible had been duly punished.  
  
"But.. lets not be too hasty here. It'd be impossible to reunite those soldiers with their families; the army's the only family they know anyway. So I don't think we'll be sending them out into cold, cruel world. They're home. They're ours."  
  
Roshi could imagine how it had gone but when it became clear that such things couldn't continue any longer they had been stuck. What happened after this generation or how many others had been taken got old and lost their ability to fight? Roshi doubted that at that point anyone was aware of the longevity that channelling Ki afforded, from the country's point of view a new army was desperately needed.  
  
And, in the copycat way of people watching the most dangerous players, everyone else did the same. Even little Helion had its own EMD and it started accepting pupils, people who appeared to be above average in strength, speed or endurance. And quite a few who were just average and wanted to feel the true power of Ki Manipulation. Lots were probably just crazy kids that wanted to learn how to fly but by the end they were a formidable fighting force and when those kids went back home they showed their family and friends just how much they had changed.  
  
It was, now that he knew where to look, quite obvious. Robby's left leg and right arm had both been broken and now that Roshi knew that he could see how Robby favoured his left arm and right leg, as if terrified that he might break the weak limbs again. Of course Roshi could also see that there was nothing wrong with his left leg or right arm, they had healed cleanly and should be as good as new. The real problem was something deep inside, some wound that hadn't so much healed as it had scabbed over.  
  
It wasn't Roshi's place to pick at it. Or at least that's what he told himself.  
  
Rolling over so that he was staring away from the fire and the boy, looking out towards the sea, Roshi caught the sparkle of his discarded sunglasses as they shined from where he had left them in the sand. Those glasses hadn't been in that hut for all those years; in fact they should have decomposed by now.  
  
He had the distinct feeling that he was a piece in some other person's game and he didn't like it. Especially since he had somehow managed to recruit Robby and for as long as this game was being played, the boy was in danger purely by being near him.  
  
"I'm no hero," muttered Roshi, "pupil to hero, yes. Teacher to hero, yes but they're completely different from being an actual hero. I'm no Goku, I'm just a stupid old man."  
  
Roshi curled up a little tighter, easing himself closer to the dying fire.  
  
"Leave me alone." 


	4. The Start

One eye opened and swivelled around unseeing, searching for shapes the rational mind knew weren't there. Then, gently, he placed his hands against the sand a little above his waist and pushed himself up slowly. It may have been expected by some that Robby would find it hard to push himself up but a fact that most fail to comprehend is that the overweight – or at least the active ones – have to move the weight they carry at all times. His arms contained far more than fat and this was noticed.

"You always wake up this early?"

The old man was sitting cross-legged across from him, poking at the ashen remains of the fire with his branch.

"It's a habit, you?"

"I've been sleeping in too often recently, thought I'd get an early start today."

He nodded and shivered, the fingers of sleep already releasing him from their warmth and letting him back into real world. Which wasn't that cold actually, if not for that damn breeze he would be warm. 

"Been quite windy since you arrived," Robby curled his legs just like his elderly companion and sat with his hands on his knees, "that something to do with you being a Ki Warrior?"

The question was aggressive but Robby couldn't help it, he had very distinct memories of his brother's friends and what they were like towards the end of the night. He remembered the fire just fine; some things never leave the mind no matter how much you wish they would.

"Not a warrior, son. I'm a teacher, the old Turtle Master at your service."

The name meant nothing to him; his brother's experiences had had teachers and instructors but no one had titles like the 'Turtle Master.' In his mind's ear he could hear his brother's low, dull laughter: "Whats a turtle gotta do with fighting?"

"Pretty strong for a teacher, Turtle Master."

The Master shrugged but it didn't look to him to be the shrug of the modest. Nor that of a man who likes to act modest to make himself feel proud. In that shrug Robby could see a little self-contempt; this shrugger has seen people far past his own abilities.

"I was pretty good in my day but that day is far behind."

Was there wistfulness in Roshi's voice? 

"Is that why you're looking for your sister, Turtle Master? You know they say people can never go home."

Robby had expected a sigh of exasperation or a little admission of despair but behind the glasses he could feel the focus of the old ones glare.

"Is that what they say? Well I suppose that depends on where home is." 

Part of him wanted to correct the old man on getting the saying wrong but he overruled it. He still had questions and his companion seemed more open to talking in the sunlight. 

"If you do find her, what're you going to do? Just disappear?"

The Turtle Master didn't answer; he climbed to his feet with no noticeable difficulty and leaned backwards with his hands placed on his waist, swivelling his head as he did so. He then, as if Robby wasn't even there, proceeded to crack his knuckles one at a time. One leg stretched out with a hand sliding down to his knee as he started doing what Robby believed to be aerobics.

"_Who are you?!_"

Roshi have no sign of having heard him speak, standing with one foot in front of the other he straightened his body and unfolded his arms together in one smooth, graceful motion. Turning, still in that lethargic pace, the old man drew one hand back to his side and tightened the other into a fist. 

Sitting cross-legged on the sandy beach, only partly aware of the cramp building up in his legs, Robert watched the old man's graceful movements in part-wonder, part-jealousy. To his mind it was almost infuriating; he was sitting on a beach, watching a crazy old man move with more control and grace than he would ever be able to pull off. 

"Son, are you going to sit their gawping all day or are you gonna join in?"

Roshi had paused in his strange aerobics and was watching Robert intently. Obviously seeing that he was out of his trance, the old man motioned for him to 'join in.' Robert did, standing slowly in order to ease the pain that piped up in his legs before standing beside Roshi who nodded encouragingly.

"This is just a little relaxation thing I learned a while ago. I don't normally use it with students but I'm a lot older and you're a lot fatter so I guess some things have got to change."

In the midst of the burning embarrassment (it's like he doesn't even know he's making fun of me!) something niggled at him. He tried to capture it, to discover what it was, but it slipped out of his mind almost as quickly as it appeared and Roshi wasn't wasting any time. 

"It starts out with the breathing, just like everything else. Sort out your breathing, son, and everything else falls into place."

Within a few minutes the two were moving at almost the same pace, Robert felt clumsy and awkward as he swung his hands – huge and monstrous next to the old man's – but he persevered with it. Every movement had to be thought out before he put it into action, he was constantly either slowing his movements or fighting to keep balance. In a way it would have been easier to go quicker but that was probably the whole point.

If only one good thing came out of the embarrassment of stumbling backwards and forwards beside his poised companion, it was the reassurance that Roshi had at least been honest about his profession. While the old codger did have a deficiency when it came to the remorseless honesty about Robert's weight, in all other respects he was patient and understanding. 

He pointed out the flaws and stumbles Robert made without fail but - unlike the drill instructors his brother had come up against - didn't make him feel useless. He merely told him what he was doing wrong and they moved on. Robert was sure they covered the same move seven times over but Roshi kept repeating the same advice without comment until he got it right.

Taking a step forwards, their hands unfolded outwards together.

"How long have we been doing this?"

The two turned and extend one hand while the other drew back.

"Long time. Tired?"

They straightened out, hands falling to their sides.

"No. I'm not sure why not."

Roshi grinned.

"Something you'll discover with my training, nothing is ever as it seems."

Robert blinked,_ that was it! _The thing that had niggled him, Roshi had called him his _student_!

Then the peace was shattered.

"Hands on your heads!"

Stunned, Robert twisted around towards the deafening voice and stumbled backwards, only just managing to maintain his balance. Roshi, on the other hand, merely glanced at him despairingly,

"Son, you're going to have to stop jumping at every sound. Warriors are calm."

"I'm not a warrior!" Robert snapped back at him, his embarrassment giving way to despair as he looked back towards the voice, "They are warriors!"

6 men of height varying from stout to lanky stood at the edge of the beach, they were kitted out in dark green trousers and shirt with small black rucksacks. He took all this in subconsciously as the majority of his attention was devoted to their blasters.

The Helion make of blaster was, to be frank, the average shape and design. A cylinder of incredibly strong steel encases the hand up to the wrist, a bar inside giving the person wielding the device something to grip. The cylinder tapers off at the end into a slit about 4 cm thick and about half the width of the cylinder. 

Thanks to the dark forests that surrounded Helion the blaster was spray-painted a dark greenish brown colour but that was the only sign of individuality. 

"I'm guessing this would be your reinforcements?"

Robert looked back to the old man who appeared completely unperturbed at the appearance of the solders, as if he had known they were coming. Normally he would have followed that train of thought but it would all be mute if fighting started, Roshi had to know what he was getting into.

"Squads like these always have at least one, maybe even two Ki Warriors. They keep them disguised in order to protect them – you don't stand a chance."

"Oh really?"

"We should give up!"

That broke through the Turtle Master's defences, the calm façade wavered and, for an instant, Robert found himself looking at a very, _very_ old man. 

"You want to give up? That's..-"

"Sense! You can't win!"

"I said hands on your head!"

One of the soldiers, the apparent leader, was striding forwards with his left hand blocking out the sun and his right pointed directly at the duo. The soldiers were falling into place behind and around him, blasters aimed easily at their heads in case of resistance.

"Do it or I'll open fire!"

Then he lost momentum, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure he was still in control. Robert had been hoping for something like that, a glance towards one of the soldiers. Maybe two. 

Not all of them.

The sergeant, Robert could see the stripes clearly now, was a figurehead. He was a distraction from the real danger and even he was aware of it. He turned back and stared across the abyss, into Robert's eyes. Two men - just normal men - caught up in something way over their heads.

They froze.

They closed their eyes.

They clenched their fists but only one was holding a blaster.

Robert was aware of the bright yellow sphere of energy looming towards him, like a meteor bent on tearing through his skull and out the other side. He had, in his darker moments, wondered what it would be like to face death, what thoughts that would go through his head. 

Now he knew that only one thought passed through the dying. _Not yet!_

The world went black and shockwaves rippled into his body, sending him stumbling backwards into the sand. He was almost positive he had died, reminded of what it had been like to awaken after Roshi had saved his life, and there was evidence to support the theory. The whole beach seemed to be covered in flames, bright white flames that licked around the 5 men Robert had picked out as Ki Warriors. And, standing before him with his palms crossed in front of his face, Roshi looked weaker than ever.

No one was paying any attention to him, not even Roshi though Robert couldn't fault him for that. It should have been a relief but, for some reason, it just made him angry.

In a flash of light something happened, one of the warriors went from standing by his comrades to hovering in mid-air, his foot embedded deep in the old man's back, then the image faded and both Robert and the warrior turned to see the old man standing, bony arms folded, a couple of feet away. The warrior landed and kicked off the ground towards Roshi, sand spraying out behind him, and brought his fist down on the Turtle Master's head but – faster than he could follow – Roshi did something that sent the warrior stumbling backwards, clutching his stomach and gasping for air.

For Robert it was like moving in a dream; under the bright yellow sun, surrounded by white fire and plagued by explosions, he crawled and shuffled his way up the beach to where the sergeant was lying – presumably having fainted when the encounter began. Upon arriving he discovered it was something quite different but there wasn't any time to consider it. 

Lifting the sergeant's right arm, his ungainly fingers were only just small enough to undo the latch at the edge of the blaster's inside, the whole thing opening up and falling away from the arm easily enough. Then, conscious of the chaos that surrounded him, Robert closed the contraption, with some difficulty, around his own arm.

He had some experience with the blasters, it was standard for all security personal and on top of that his brother had gotten a kick out of showing off. Holding it up out of his own shadow, Robert slid an almost invisible panel away to reveal the blaster's controls. It took a second to adjust it to his settings, practiced fingers flowing easily over the keypad with dexterity they didn't normally show, and then he turned and opened himself to the fight.

It was hard to follow; all over the beach he could see individual Roshis frozen in time. One was poised ready to jump, another kicking out in midair, another punching his fist deep into his opponent's stomach. The images only lasted a split second, after that they faded – leaving the warriors that _had_ been surrounding him completely confused. 

And yet only four were fighting, one stood back from the whole ordeal and that made him all the more imposing in Robert's eyes. Of all of the others only he possessed a scouter, the blue tinged lens glowing yellow from the amount of data it was collecting. He was assessing Roshi, not just for the benefit for his squad, which Robert saw as a slapdash collection of the strongest fighters available, but for his superiors.

It would be much later before Robert would realise he had already stopped thinking of them as his own superiors.

As the others ducked and weaved and cried out, infuriated by this old man who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once, this man stood back and took it all in. He was who was really in charge, his mission to collect as much data on the strange aggressor then take him out. And as Roshi continued to prove his ability, Helion's attention would only increase.

Robert wasn't aware of his arm training on the man's head until he hand almost pressed his thumb down on the trigger of the blaster. Already he could feel part of his own Ki, meagre though it was, flowing to his arm in anticipation. It shocked him to think that he could have even that much control. The blaster obviously affected people in that way. 

To fire would separate him from his own country, his own people. 

To not would separate him from Roshi, this old man with a harsh tongue and dark past.

So Robert closed his eyes and chose, the bright yellow of the blaster's fire filling his vision even through his eyelids.


	5. A Lack of Direction

Of all the reactions he had been expecting - anxiety, anger, pain - excitement hadn't been one of them. How long had it been since he had done anything like this? When had he last had a proper fight? The cannon hadn't posed much of a challenge, but _this_? Thinking, fighting individuals? Nothing compared to fighting real people and, as Roshi was quickly discovering, the old fighting instincts died hard.

Twirling on the sand, the wind snaking around his body even as his aura grew, the old turtle master caught one blow with a frail old hand that tightened around this fist until his knuckles glowed white. Ignoring the cry of pain he took a step backwards; in one fluid movement he drew the shocked warrior off his footing and hammered his free hand deep into his opponent's stomach. It didn't just hurt, to the amazement of both his opponent and Roshi himself, a man twice his size was lifted up and sent careening backwards into the air.

Had he ever been so strong?!

What Roshi remembered of his past life held a lot of shame to it. The shame of being out matched by his pupils - all his pupils. The shame of growing weak without ending. The shame of a hundred tiny things that hadn't seemed important but had stuck in his head when all others deserted him. He had never been this strong, never strong enough to repel so many with ease. When Roshi came up against those stronger, and such people did exist, he could remember taking joy in the fact that it was his skill and experience that supported him.

Now, however, he was actually knocking away warriors and he wasn't nearly so arrogant as to believe that their training was so lacking when compared to his own. Something was very different, those centuries fermenting in that battered old hut had affected him in a way he could barely comprehend. And what was worse than all of this; he didn't care.

As he threw his head back and screamed, full of the unfamiliar feeling of overwhelming strength, a small voice whispered in the back of his head that something was wrong and he didn't care! Because nothing at this moment was stronger than him. Not Goku! Not Krillen! Not Frieza or Cell or a dozen other names that held no faces to them! He would destroy them all! The Turtle Master would rise again and all would tremble at the mentioning of his name!

It ended without a bang, without even a whimper. All that commemorated the end of Roshi's brief affair with power was the numbness that clutched at his heart as he turned to see Robert, the student he had all but forgotten in the chaos, fire another of those outlandish guns at the leader of the whole group. The leader who was staring at him with cold calculation through a purple tinted lens that, for some reason, filled him with dread; as though he were staring at some unholy relic from a bygone age. For some reason he felt that the scouters - how did he know that word? - along with the guns did not belong to this world. It was as though he was in the presence of demons waving pitchforks.

Without for one second looking away from his target, the leader swept his right arm out in an almost careless move and sliced Robert's attack in two. Robert himself looked terrified, all the colour draining out of his plump cheeks to leave a very large, pale man with no hope of survival. And yet he didn't falter, in fact he set his feet further into the sand and, tapping on the weapon, started firing a continues spray of attacks that sent sand and wind in spirals around him. It was a testament to the boys resolve, any fool could fire once but it took - lets face it - a born fool to keep firing on his own people just for the sake of one old man.

The leader glanced around and focussed, for the first time, on his attacker. Calm even as bolt after bolt spluttered harmlessly off the palm of his hand; he turned to fully face Robby and smiled. It contained absolutely no humour. But then again neither did Robby who, if possible, looked even more serious.

Roshi doubted anyone else followed the leader after that, apart from himself that was. Slipping into a level beyond the others, he ducked under a bolt that was now moving with all the speed of a balloon on a calm day and kicked off the ground. Staying low for a moment, sand bursting out on either side of him as he flew mere inches above the ground, he sped towards Robby and rose twirling out of the path of another bolt - his hand blurring even from Roshi's point of view and coming down hard on Robert's head.

On where Robby's head had been.

Roshi knew all about the tunnel vision one gains when the fighting truly starts. You concentrate in on one detail and everything else just fades away. In fact even as he stood there two of the lesser warriors had tried to attack him only to be caught by a particularly virulent case of sand-in-the eye – the wind, his tireless guard. It was, more than anything else, tunnel vision that saved Robert's life that day by blinding his opponent to the reality of the situation. That Robby, an unskilled pencil pusher, had anticipated his attack and dived for the ground before the soldier even began to move. That meant that while the soldier was stumbling forwards, off-balance and confused, Robby was lying on his back with his gun glowing from the compressed energy of being charged to its fullest.

The Turtle Master saw all and understood nothing.

Robby fired, the energy salvo that left his gun containing enough power to carry the warrior backwards through the air, soaring into the clear blue sky and fizzling out somewhere in the distance - over the ocean. When Roshi turned back Robby was unconscious and very weak - that is to say weaker than before - and when he looked for the warriors, they were gone. Some had gone to rescue their leader from drowning; the rest had simply decided that they valued their lives a lot more than their positions.

It wasn't over with them; you didn't have to be eight hundred years old - give or take - to know that. In spite of this he didn't trust himself in another fight, he was obviously stronger now than ever before and he wasn't ashamed to admit that it scared him. On top of that he had proven himself unworthy of his powers by losing control, perhaps if he had been a whole person instead of so fragmented he could have handled it but as it was he was untrustworthy.

These were problems he didn't want and, at the moment, couldn't handle. So he took a deep breath and set them aside, taking in a problem he could handle instead. Gripping Robby by the waist, Roshi lifted the young man up and held him balanced on the back of his neck; hands and head trailing across one side of his chest; legs trailing across the other. In any other situation, Roshi mused to himself, this would be the funniest thing I've seen in the past few hundred years.

"What a waste of a good laugh.."

With no true idea of where he was going, Roshi set off into the woods and was glad that his load prevented him from looking back.

And the leaves of trees and bushes ruffled like an aggravated bird, shivering in his wake.

-------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------

It was – though the idea itself seemed ridiculous – a relief to discover that he was still capable of feeling discomfort.

Since awakening he had a body that seemed almost alien to him; the strength he possessed now far outweighed anything he could remember. Granted his memory was quite a bit more guesswork than anything else at the moment but there was a definite feeling that this was not right. In spite of this new found strength, however, his body still seemed prone to the same aches and pains that had followed him through most of his mature life. There was still the ache around his knees, the twinge in his fingers, the pain of tired, naked feet traipsing through rough country – all as familiar as a lovers embrace and just as comforting.

The pain was proof that he was – in some small way – still normal. Still human.

Somewhere above his head a branch tapped off another, tutting at his self-absorption. One hand slid through the air in a reassuring manner and, with a wry smile, Roshi put the depressing thoughts away for the moment and assessed his surroundings.

The forest was, shockingly, unhelpful when it came to camping rough. There were no convenient hollows or clearings; just trees as far as the eye could see. Nor was the ground particularly attractive; the palm trees had long since been replaced with gigantic affairs the had carpeted whole area with damp brown and amber leaves. The tree's didn't stop there either – there wasn't a patch of ground that didn't have some kind of root bumping up.

Roshi was most definitely not a camping person. Even his fragmented memories were clear on this. He had hoped to continue walking until the trees broke but the entire country seemed infested with the things. He had hoped that, upon awakening, Robby would have some vague idea as to where they were headed.

"Can't you think of any sort of landmark? I could really use some help here, son.."

No response – Roshi hadn't really expected one either. The boy had offloaded a mess of energy onto one of Helion's top fighters, more energy than he could spare really and even while awake he was keeping himself to himself. The boy was something though, evading a blow that had really been going far too fast for him to follow and then knocking the guy out. It still baffled Roshi how Robby could have even considered doing it and even more so that he could actually pull it off. Roshi _had_ felt something about the boy, not quite like the memory he had of Goku or Krillen but something none the less.

He had thought the boy lesser because the feeling was different. Now he wasn't so sure. Robert had endured a lot in his life, perhaps even more cruelty than Krillen had ever had to face. After all Krillen had still been a child when he had met Roshi. Robby was at least over 24, he probably had a whole closet full of skeletons.

"Robby?"

The more he thought about it, the more he began to believe that there was something all together different about Robby. He hadn't started moving when he saw the leader move, he had started moving _before_ the leader had moved.

"Son?"

"What is it Roshi?" he sounded tired and dejected, which was to be expected. Roshi let the whine persist for the moment, though he had already decided to take care of it in due time should it continue. Robby was obviously not a child any more, he shouldn't act like a petulant one.

"Just wondering if you've considered where in your _great country_ we might be.."

"Nope." At that Roshi had to crack a smile, the tone and inflection were exactly the same as he had used last night. Still it wasn't getting them anywhere and something had to be done; Roshi slowed his pace until Robby had was stumbling beside him.

"It's in there somewhere, you don't live in a place without getting something."

"I told you, I don't live here. I just work here, in the hover-car it's only an hour commute."

"But you must have spotted signs while driving down; their in your head somewhere."

Robby kicked at a tree root.

"If they are, they aren't making themselves known."

Roshi hesitated, one foot raised in the air as a memory struck him. He could remember a man, a tall Indian wearing a turban and many dark thoughts. Someone who never would have confided in him but he had found it necessary to know what his goals were. Roshi had actually looked into the surface level thoughts of his mind and saw what he needed.

"What is it? Not the soldiers?!"

Of course in that case he had been looking for something the man thought about constantly. In this case he was trying to find something submerged in many different memories. It would be much harder, that was certain – but he couldn't afford to go traipsing through a forest while Helion mounted another attack.

"Old man, I don't want to slap you but I will if you don't cut this out!"

Roshi blinked as one pudgy hand filled his immediate vision. The hand stopped an inch from his nose, so close that he could make out the pattern of Robby's fingerprints. Beyond him he could see Robby's stunned expression, clearly he hadn't expected Roshi to go from near comatose to catching blows in under a second.

"I'm fine. No soldiers. _Couldn't if you tried_, not yet anyway."

Roshi treated him to a toothless grin.

"However our army friends could very well be upon us at any moment and I don't think we can afford to just stumble around. So, with your permission of course, I'd like to try a technique to find those memories."

The old man took a few steps back, still grinning in what he believed to be a reassuring manner, and swept on hand before his face in an odd, smooth motion. He brought his other around before him with the same slow grace, the very air blurring around them.

"Sleepy, son, you feel very sleepy.."

"Roshi.." Robby attempted a snort but all he could manage was a yawn in the face of the mesmerising movements, "Can't hypnotise.. me.. I've.."

Robby trailed off completely and, hand thumping limp against his sides, merely stood there in a stupor.

Technically what Roshi needed to do didn't require Robby to be immobilised, with the Indian he had done it without the man noticing, but he didn't want to risk anything. He would be going far deeper into Robby's mind – anything could happen.

Coming back to the slight psychic ability that he had was much like riding a bike after many years. There was the sense of familiarity to it, that this was something he knew, but also the blinding fear that he was going to make a mistake and end up face down on the ground. Placing his hands on either side of Robby's face, Roshi began.

It was indescribable – there is little in life that can be compared to sifting through alien memories. The images Roshi saw weren't just images; they were the smells and thoughts and feeling that went with them. He avoided the surface – he wasn't comfortable reading the boys thoughts – and plunged himself deeper into the darkness. There were barriers that pushed back at him, memories he doubted Robby was even aware of. The worse the memory, the stronger the resistance. And there was a lot of resistance.

He _tried_ to force himself deeper in the boys mind, the memories he needed buried deep inside his subconscious. The barriers, however, seemed to surround him. There were more in this boys mind than even the worst experiences should hold and they were far stronger than normal. Roshi wasn't a practised psychic but he should at least be able to pass through a normal persons barriers. Instead he was actually being herded away from the worst memories, his mind forced to choose between retreating and continuing on the set path.

Roshi couldn't afford to give up and so he pressed on, aware that less and less memories were becoming accessible. It was as though the volume of things were being toned down slowly, the memories a whisper in his minds ear as wall after wall fell into place around him. Robby might have been willing to let him root through his mind but his subconscious had very different ideas. And by Kami it was strong.

Frustrated but unwilling to give up, Roshi struck out. He had come to far to be held back because of fear and paranoia, he would not let the instinctual part of his pupil's mind – the part said to be the dumbest of all – keep him from his goal. He focussed all his attention on one of the stronger barriers, willing to bet that taking down one would weaken the rest. He poured his concentration upon it, feeling it give under his will power. The boy was good but so was Roshi, and he had been good for far longer than Robby had.

Then, as a raucous laughter filled his ears, he was falling. . .

---------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------

One eye opened and swivelled around cautiously, making sure that the room was empty. Once satisfied two hands were placed against the bed and, ever so slowly, he forced himself into a sitting position. The blanket was pulled away and left by his side as he swung his feet off the bed and took a deep, calming breath.

His brother wasn't here, he must still be outside drinking..

_What's going on?_

Brushing his hair from his eyes, he stood slowly and made his way to the window; his gaze found the shape of the barn even in the middle of the night and sharp eyes picked out the faint glow coming from beneath it's great closed doors. He took a step back and caught a glance of himself in the windows reflection, his expression set in one of scared determination.

_I'm Robby?!_

Sitting down again, Robby pulled his trousers on and stifled a yawn. If he started now he'd just fall back to sleep and he _couldn't_ allow that to happen. For all he knew Johnny was tearing the place to pieces, his father had to have known that handing a Ki-Warrior a crate through of alcohol was a bad move. Hadn't he?

_Nothing compared to experiencing a memory. Roshi could feel the texture of the the wooden floor beneath his feet, smell the sweat after a summer night, taste Robby's saliva as he swallowed his obvious fear. It was unnerving to say the least, to walk without control, to say things you don't know you're going to say. Roshi was most definitely not behind the wheel._

Five minutes of careful treading later Robert was standing knee-deep in the weeds that surrounded the back of the barn. While the front was in good condition the back had fallen into disrepair; the farm had once been a profitable place as it occupied one of the few treeless plains of Helion. Now, however, the country was concentrating on imports and the farm was slowly, but steadily, going out of business. The three animals they had, cows so old that they had to sleep indoors, clustered at the front. Usually they slept calmly but tonight they were as far back in their stalls as possible – their fear palatable.

_Roshi tried to force Robby's gaze away from the animals, he could sense _something _happening on the other side of the barn. He could almost see it out of the corner of Robby's eyes but the boy seemed uninterested or unwilling to look. He would have put money on the latter._

Slowly, fighting against his own fear, Robert forced his gaze to fall upon his brother and two of his equally inebriated friends. He could _feel_ their smug joy, their incredulity, their savage pleasure in the sport they were taking part in. One was holding a small white object in his hand and, with the clumsy feet of one who has taken in his bodyweight of alcohol, pulled himself to his feet. His brother, slightly better coordinated, stood up and raised one hand.

"Pull!"

The white object was slung into the air and, a professional look taking precedent over his drunken expression, Johnny tracked it with his hand. His brow furrowed for a moment, golden sparks collecting in the palm of his open hand, then an orb of bright light sped from his hand and caught the white shape – two halves spilling away as yolk filled the air.

_It would be hard to explain to someone who couldn't sense Ki how horrible that simple action was. This was just a boyish prank, wasn't it? Kids egged houses every day. Nothing wrong a little childish fun. This is because those who cant sense Ki can not feel the tiny, fragile life dwelling inside the white shells. These were not store bought eggs which were too far gone for any hope. These were chicks waiting to be born, waiting to be welcomed into the world. _And they were playing with them.

_**Murdering them.**_

It wasn't that they were his father's eggs. It wasn't that he was a stupid oafish jerk. Somehow it was more than any thing that normally would have annoyed him. Something in his expression as the egg exploded, that savage pleasure, coupled with the obvious fear the animals had for him disgusted Robby. This wasn't a human being he was watching. This was a _monster_.

_Perhaps it was the combination of his own hate and Robby's disgust, but he'd like nothing more than to beat that 'boy' within an inch of his life. As it was he was impotent, he could do nothing but sit and watch. Things were undoubtedly about to get far worse; however disturbing the scene might be he doubted that this was sufficient for Robby to want to block it so thoroughly._

Johnny's second friend forced himself to his feet and drew back another egg in preparation, watching Johnny for his signal. The idiot in question smirked, unaware of the hate Robby was pouring onto him, and nodded. In the blink of an eye the egg was soaring through the air, sparks were collecting in Johnny's hand and, outside of it all, Robby focussed all his anger.

_In the darkness of memory, Roshi felt something stirring. Around him the random thoughts that had filled the background quieted, falling silent to one of pure rage. One of the rarest of all thoughts, one with no trails or questions. This thought stood alone, simple and powerful, and it shook Roshi to his core._

**This shall not continue.**

The egg seemed to buck in mid-air, as though something pushed it, and as Robby snapped back to reality he bore witness to the end of the blast's journey. The sphere bore into the rafters and, sparks dancing around, set scattered hay alight. Stunned and terrified, Johnny took a step back and shot a glare at his friends – silently informing them of what would happen were they to allow the events of this night to leave the barn. He brought his energy to bare, aura crackling to life around him, and sent a blast of wind into the flames – but they only grew. Truly scared now, Johnny took a step back and tried again; his energy fanned the flames. Then he stumbled backwards, one corner of the barn already damaged beyond repair, and fled screaming into the night.

_Roshi barely had time to mentally sneer at the boys cowardice, Robby was stepping into the barn and quick hands unlatching the stalls where the already terrified cows were beginning to moan. It was impressive, not many could keep their head in such situations, and, as the boy soothed the cows and guided them out into the night, he felt a new respect for the boy growing. Most of which was almost destroyed when the boy turned to re-enter in search of the eggs. Life or not they were still just chickens, it would be suicide to even consider going back-_

_. . . this shall not continue . . ._

When Robby came to he was sitting outside the farmhouse; a collection of eggs by his side and three cows making their way steadily through the garden. Then his father appeared and there was much shouting, Robby was pulled to his feet and spent the rest of the night trying to douse the flames with an old garden hose. His father managed some grudged praise over his making sure the animals were safe but saved most of his emotion for when Johnny returned. Apparently he had been out all night; he was just as stunned as they; it's OK dad, I'm glad I'm safe too.

_The last taste Roshi had was of bitterness. Robby had acted like a hero and gotten the barest of thanks, it wasn't surprising that he had sought to alienate himself from the rest of the world. There were other memories linked to this and the strongest was too buried for even Roshi to penetrate. He imagined that this was how Robby's arm and leg had been broken; his brother had discovered that his brother had been the first on the scene and made it _very _clear that no secrets were to be revealed. An unrecognised good deed always held a bitter taste. Even the teacher of heroes found it hard to justify._

(OOC: I mean no disrespect to my previous reviewers, without you guys I never would have taken this beyond the first page, but wow! I never expected someone I've heard of to send a review my way. Thanks for making my day and forcing me to make another post, The Rev. : )

I hope I'm not making Roshi _too_ out of character with this fic. I've tried to make him different but in ways I think he would be after almost a millennia of life. I doubt Roshi at 300 was much like what he was at 30 and I hope that Roshi at 800 would be something like what I've made him.)


	6. Magic

"It's my right, you old coot!" Face red in aggravation, Robert struggled to keep up with his ancient guide. To his knowledge no more than a second had passed between Roshi's half-assed attempt at hypnotising him and the sudden stricken expression that had appeared on his wrinkled face. It had lasted for only a split-second, then a poker face unlike any Robert had seen before had closed over him. From that point he had been striding forwards, evading Robert's increasingly frantic questions.

"Right, s'might son. I went in, I poked around, I came back with an answer."

"You went tinkering inside my head and saw _something_."

"I saw a direction, mind the branches.."

The aforementioned branches continued to lash against his plump arms but compared to being blown up or shot at it was a small evil. They had been trekking – and it really did seem like trekking compared to the relatively relaxed stroll they had been on before - for ten minutes straight and to Robert the whole thing seemed like some ridiculous attempt to avoid talking. He _never_ went as deep into the forest as they were now, there were no memories to draw on.

"You know that's not what I meant!"

The old man disappeared for a moment, bare feet skidding down a leaf padded slope. The trees were thick in every direction, meaning that little-to-no actual bushes blocked their path but with the amount of branches intertwining around them it was hard to know the difference. The main problem wasn't that he was missing a shirt, though an extra one would have been much appreciated. The weather was warm and the tree's cut out all breezes, making him feel uncomfortably warm rather than vice-versa. The main problem was that he was wearing sandals which – while affective on the beach – were a source of torment in the forest. He was giving real consideration to just dumping them and-

"Then dump 'em already and stop your whining."

Robert froze for a moment, stunned. The old man really _could_ read minds.

"I don't appreciate you just diving into my head when you feel like it!"

Sighing remorsefully, he kicked them off, stamping through the pain just to spite his tormenter.. though how exactly it might upset Roshi was beyond Robert's failing logic.

"It worked, didn't it?"

Sliding down the slope, both hands digging troughs in the undergrowth as he leaned back to keep his footing, Robert reflected that he hadn't seen any kind of proof so far. They had been walking for hours upon hours before Roshi had even considered his 'party trick.' By this time, according to his fuzzy grasp of military policy, they would probably be cordoning off the entire area, getting ready to sweep for them. And when they were found some of the strongest warriors in Helion, along with a couple extremely expensive mercs, would appear and decimate everything within a square mile of them.

Full of their doom, Robert brushed his hands dry and followed Roshi's voice past the next row of trees.. into the open.

The tree's fell back to reveal a gradual slope of land that led down to a sort of beach, pebbles and jet black stones spread around the lip of a natural bowl – a lake of pristine clear water which, after half a day of walking in sweltering heat, practically begged to be swam in.. and before it all an awe inspiring sight. The old, and presumably dignified, man was standing with one hand behind his back and the other giving the 'V' for victory, a wide grin plastered on his face.

The lake could have captured a painter, held a poet for days, but Robert was unimpressed. He was insulted that Roshi thought he could be tricked so easily.

"You lucked out. You didn't find anything at all in my mind, did you?"

To the old mans credit his grin barely flickered.

"Not a thing, guess I ain't as smart as I thought."

"Pays not to underestimate me."

"Believe me, my boy – I know. Now, shall we begin?"

Just like before, they started with that odd mix of dance and aerobics. It was easier than before, some of the moves the second time put pressure on limbs he preferred not to even think of but he stumbled through it all. Robert was just beginning to get into the rhythm of it when Roshi relaxed and began stepping backwards towards the lake.

"What we need is to get out the country but since I'd like to do it with you alive and along for the ride, you're gonna have to learn a few things and learn them quicker than usual. So here's hoping that I'm a better teacher and you're a better student than either of us think."

With every word his wrinkled, blue veined feet took step after step backwards towards the crystal clear lake. From the word 'so' his feet touched the water and continued to move backwards; the amazing part was that from that word they did not continue downwards. Smiling, Roshi walked on water...

"Now most people would say you'd need to be a big martial artist to be able to get this quickly, but I don't. All you have to know is how to get your head around the theory and you're set. Martial Arts is where you go afterwards, get the workings of your own energy straight and you'll be able to go further and farther than some of the so-called experts."

"Are you telling me that by the end of today I'll be able to fly and shoot energy beams?"

"No, son, it's not _that_ easy. But after today's session you'll have a better idea. And after the next one you'll have an even better idea than that. And that's how it'll go."

"When do I learn to walk on water?"

"_Now._"

In one swift movement Roshi kneeled down and let himself fall backwards against the surface of the lake, the water rippled but nothing more than that. Then he was crouched in the lotus position and, were it not for the glaring sunglasses, might have looked quite wise. Robert had a more difficult time; his limbs weren't trained through years of practice to do just what he told them to. Still the practice they had gone through meant that he was at least slightly more loose in his movements and had little trouble coming into something close to the old mans position – except on the grass that lay just beyond the beach.

Later Robert was struck by the fact that he couldn't remember anything Roshi actually said in that part of the training. His voice dropped into a sort of hoarse lulling and it really was an extremely warm day, Robert found his head nodding less because of what the old man said and more because he simply couldn't keep it up. It wasn't any kind of meditation he had ever heard of and yet it cleared his mind just as quickly, within minutes all that mattered was the breeze washing against his face.

"Do you hear me, Robert?"

The old man's voice was soft, inconsequential.

"Yes.."

"Can you feel the energy I spoke of, breaking against your spirit from me, flowing from the spirit that is you?"

Everything seemed to make sense in the state he was in. His eyes may have been closed or open, it made no difference. He saw nothing but felt _everything_. It wasn't just the wind that was pushing against him, it was the slow, steady energy of the old man. The deep, blue-green of a dark sea – mysterious, bottomless. And his own energy leaking out from his skin in tiny, almost invisible wisps of white.

And more, the golden yellow of trees absorbing light and water, creating life. The dark purples of the rodents the scurried between the trees, the flash of red that was a predator on the hunt, the –

"And now, control that energy. Do you hear me, Robert? Lift the energy up and let it carry you with it. Let it take on your weight."

Robert did so to the best of his ability and did feel a tiny, almost insignificant change.

"Now stand up and get over here, Robby. Time to do some push ups."

Some amount of hours later, Robert was never sure how many as his watch had been stripped away while being yanked out of the car. Still the sun _had_ been hanging over his head and instead it was hovering in the west – part of it sinking into the river that the lake fed off.

He was half-way through a push up, staring down at the stony bottom of the lake, staring down at his rippling reflection, staring down at his stomach which was – even at the full stretch of his arms – sinking beneath the water of the lake. He was doing push-ups on the surface of the lake.

From somewhere beside him he heard Roshi begin to laugh.

And then his accursed mind, which never seemed to want to shut up, told him very bluntly that what he was doing just wasn't possible. The water couldn't hold his weight up.

So he immediately dropped into the water.

On the plus side it was every bit as cool and refreshing as he had hoped, though the shock did take his breath away. Robert broke the surface a second later, water churning as he flailed, then remembered himself and started paddling back to shore. He pulled himself up until his top half was leaning against the rocks, then sank against the pebbles with a gasp and turned a malevolent eye on his teacher who was laughing his ass off.

"You bastard, you old wrinkled bastard! You.. I.."

Robert trailed off and stared at the little waves that were lapping up against the ground he was leaning against, watched as a breeze sent ripples across the surface.

"I was doing it, wasn't I? I was on the water but not going through.. how did I..?

"Once you take on your full weight with your energy, which most people should be able to do, you're pretty much as light as air. You can jump higher than any of these trees and even water will support your weight. Flying is just the next step, beats me why I didn't come to it sooner. Half of my training in the old days was ways of tricking people into realising the first fact and even I took a while to get the second."

Listening with half an ear, Robert drew himself back up onto his feet and tried to remember the feeling. The words were lost to him but the feeling Roshi had led him to, the feeling of every bit of energy rushing against him, reminding him that he was alive – that was still there. Once he was sure that he had that feeling centred in his mind, it was only a matter of closing eyes and taking a step.. and then another.

The soft sound of water lapping against the beach was all he heard, even as he started to run there was only a gentle splash or two. Wiry hands caught him and suddenly he as on an ice-skating rink, gliding around and around until he fell still.

"I don't know how, but you've got it, my boy."

His eyes opened, first to see Roshi, then to look around at the water surrounding them. The river, painted gold by the setting sun, was a highway now. An escape route.

"I had a good teacher.."

"I'm a few centuries too old for flattery," the old man grinned and smacked him on the back, never minding the half-yelp as he scored a patch of sunburn, "but thanks anyway.

"We're going to follow this river as far as it'll take us, you'll find yourself feeling tired just from holding yourself up but just keep going as far as you can. At this stage you can only get stronger."

Pushing off from him, Roshi back-peddled across the cool surface until he was standing near the actual centre of the lake, then twirled about and waved for Robert to join him. The two faced the river that lay before them, Roshi smiling gently while Robert was practically beaming. He could rationalise it all he want – a high off the energy, a childish enjoyment of walking on water. He felt _great_.

"Race you, old man."

Roshi glanced sidelong at him, grinned and nodded.

Then he was gone, skinny legs pumping across the water fast enough to leave a wake. Wasting no time, Robert leant forward and forced his legs into action, gliding weightless across the smooth water.

_That_, he realised, was what was making him smile so much.

For the first time in his life he felt weightless.

_Anyway.._

His grin turned competitive and he cranked himself up a gear, ready to see what he could achieve without being tied down. The water parted around his feet and, leaving droplets hanging in mid-air, Robert ran for the sun.

"That's an affirmative, both subjects have been eyeballed."

Stepping out from amongst the trees, the dark green and brown of his body-suit near invisible in the shadows, the soldier reached a hand up to adjust the settings on his scanner. The dark green lens blurred with numbers as its sight zoomed in to capture both fugitives as they made their run.

"Confirmed, Robert King does appear to be showing a significant increase in energy manipulating."

As a scout he was adept at suppressing his energy to near non-existent levels, in modern warfare it was necessary in all sneaking missions. His orders were to follow them until the entirety of the HTF could rendezvous for a full on assault. His superiors made them out to be armed and dangerous, to be destroyed and then forgotten. However he was a career soldier and being such made a mental note of the walking on water technique; it was a little more elegant and a damn sight more useful on a sneaking mission than hiding your energy completely and roughing it.

"Moving into pursuit.."

Hands held out from his sides, Robert span like a ballerina and kicked off from the water – rising twirling through the air. He shot up twenty feet, head coming level with the tips of the trees that leaned down across the riverbanks, then dropped back laughing. His balance was almost lost as he touched down on the water but he was getting the hang of it. The energy concept just seemed right, no wonder even his brother had grasped it.

"Steady son," the old man cackled as he circled him then shot forwards, hands folded behind his back like an old pro, "just get the flow. And remember your breathing, keep bringing new energy in or you'll go kerplunk again."

Robert nodded, only listening with half an ear. He hadn't lived the world's most boring life – or so he liked to think – and yet this was definitely the most incredible experience he could bring to mind. The last two days had been the most surreal of his life and yet everything felt so right..

"You're fallin' behind, son!"

Except it wasn't.

They were had been found. Someone was behind them; others were coming from the north and the south. West, their escape route, was blocked off. They were trapped.

Not wasting time second guessing his intuitions - when actually gliding on water anything seems possible – Robert closed in on the old man and whispered frantically while trying to appear nonchalant. Roshi proved the better actor, nodding with so little interest that he could only conclude that the old man-

"- knew all along," Robert hissed through a frozen smile, "You old fool! Why didn't you tell me!"

"Thought I'd see how long it took you to figure it out.."

"But we're trapped!"

"Never such a thing, we are heading towards your next lesson."

"And if we get shot before we get there!"

Roshi sighed despairingly then eased one foot deeper into the water to slow his progression. The old man span easily on the waves until he was back-pedalling against Robert's back.

"Have it your way, son. From this point we go _fast_."

"Excuse me, you're going to push? That's your great solution? We'd have to fly faster than a jet!"

"Near abouts, now brace yerself. It could get rough."

Rolling his eyes, Robert continued to move forwards with the old man leaning against his back. What Roshi did was lost to him, all he could here was the strange mantra he went through.

"Ka.. Me.."

And the crackle of energy, accompanied by the deep, powerful humming of a wakened turbine.

"_Ha_ Me.."

As the noise grew in volume, hairs beginning to prickle along his arms and down his neck, Robert felt the energy pouring off the old man. No longer relaxed, it was an inferno of spiritual light growing brighter and brighter. The shadow on that light was caused by the increasingly obvious presence of strangers – the Helion Task Force as likely as nought – closing in on their location. If he squinted his eyes Robert could just see two figures hiding in the light of the dying sun, waiting to take both him and the old man down.

_Whatever you have planned do it now, old man. Do it before we die-_

"**_HA!_**"

Everything in front of him blurred.

The trees on the side of the rivers, the figures that had been so far ahead of them moments before, the reflections on the water. His back was nothing but an exclamation of pain as the body of the old man cracked against it, pressure mounting as they sped up. And yet none of that mattered for all Robert could consider was the speed he was travelling and the amount of things that could go wrong.

On both sides of his body were sprays of water kicked up by his feet, which were already turning numb. The river twisted easily, so gently that they barely seemed like twists at all, and yet it was all Robert could do to twist and turn to remain in the centre. The presences that had been so important in the seconds before Roshi's.. whatever he had done.. were all flaring up in the background, trying desperately to make up for lost ground. The figures that had been haloed in gold had kept up for a split-second, and then had fallen back with the rest.

"Roshi!" The wind tore his voice away; he couldn't tell if the old man could hear him, "Roshi! What the hell are we doing!"

"Training," came a minute reply, almost impossible to make out. "The second part of your training.."

"I can't keep it up!"

And then the pressure died away, Roshi was suddenly spinning into view with a big grin on his face. The two ran on the excess momentum then came back to their original speed, the landscape no longer blurring in such a disconcerting way.

"Gotta be able to take high speeds when you're flying, that's a big part of it. Did well though, 'm proud of you, my boy!"

If that meant anything to him – and Robert sincerely didn't want it to, he still had reasons to be angry at the old coot – he didn't let it show. Instead he cast an arm backwards, back to the botched ambush.

"They'll catch up with us eventually, all you did was surprise them. Once the river ends and they speed up, we're sunk."

"Not to worry, when the river ends we hitch a ride. Just gotta have a little faith."

Robert nodded absent-mindedly, one hand rubbing sweat away from his eyes as he stared at the sunset.

"Any idea when that happens?"

"About thirty seconds, when we go over the waterfall.."

The two sailed on in silence.

"_What_!"

Roshi steered closer to his supposed student and caught one flabby arm, holding it fast. Robert barely noticed as his eyes were trained on the river ahead. What the sunset had managed to hide was the distinctive lack of horizon, no more than forty feet away the river ended in a very definite manner.

"Now you listen here, son, and listen good." For once Roshi was playing serious, his face ancient in its frown, "I'm gonna have to ask you to drop whatever issue you have with your brother and drop it fast, otherwise you're dead."

The young man turned and stared, mouth wide open, at the old man and as such missed the first, breathtaking view of the falls. A valley of gold was spread out before them, the beginnings of the Helion plains on which his home was placed. Robert had gazed up at the waterfall in wonder as a child, hoping one day that he would see it from the top. The old man span like a top, lifting Robert up and out over the thin air, then caught one last tree branch and held it in the crook of his free arm.

"Drop it or I'll drop you, are we understood?"

Robert choked on the spray of water that was pounding against him, then forcibly pulled himself up until his head was above the worst of it. From that position, ever aware of his feet dangling over the edge, he looked up at his ancient companion.

"What are you talking about! What 'issue'!"

"You hate your brother and that hate is festering inside of you!"

"Whose business is that but mine!" Robert snapped back, in spite of the suicidal situation it put him in.

"No ones," Roshi yelled back, looking deeply stricken. "But if you can't let that go then it'll take control of you. And if you can't let go of that then I can't take you any further, I won't teach any murderers – only heroes."

"I'm not a hero! I'm just a person and I hate that bastard more than anything!"

"I know, I do. But ask yourself this, Robby. Robert. Do you hate him with _all_ your life? Do you hate him enough to die for it, die at the beginning of it all when it means nothing?"

The two stared at each other, water rushing in their ears, troops rushing towards their position.

Johnny wasn't the epitome of evil, just low grade nasty. He had done some awful things and was a pretty awful person.. but what did that really matter. For once in his life Robert wasn't living purely because – because he had no alternative that didn't terrify him. For once he wasn't the boring one, the one no one would remember or care about. And, in the position he was in, surely he could let go of just a little of the bile that he had been storing up.

And besides, part of him really did want to see how far this crazy old man could get.

The old man in question grinned, as if the answer were printed on Robert's face, and pulled him up to eye level as if it were nothing. All to whisper one piece of advice.

"That's it?" asked Robert, speaking incredulously but believing him all the same.

Roshi nodded and, with a flash of a beaming smile, let go of the branch.

The two parted in free-fall, Roshi righting himself so that he appeared to be standing on mid-air even as he fell while Robert spread his arms and legs out and felt the air rushing past his naked stomach. To his right, indistinct in the last glow of the day, the old man put two fingers to his lips and produced a piercing whistle.. and then Robert looked away. He knew Roshi would be alright, he had to be concerned with himself.

Far below wasn't quite so far at that point, the basin of water below rushing up to meet him, promising to be just as hard as any form of concrete, just as swift to destroy the remainder of his life. A different man would have accepted that fate, but Robert wasn't through with things quite then.

So he drew a deep breath and yelled long and strong, his voice echoing around him.

"_Flying Nimbus!_"

And was left hanging there, the ground still getting closer, his end still fast approaching. There was nothing, no magical object, no instant cure to the sudden death he expected. He had been a fool to trust the old man, a fool to believe in fairy tales and magical solutions to..

There was a yellow cloud drawing level with him and, though there were no eyes with which it could possibly do so, Robert had the incredible sense of being assessed. All over the cheery, mysteriously organic sound of some kind of engine.

"I don't forgive him.." Robert murmured, all but sure that the wind was carrying his words away far too quickly to be heard, "but I don't want to kill him. Is that okay?"

The two sank towards the lake, rushing deep into the mist the waterfall threw up, moisture clouding both of them for an instant – then they were out together. Robert lying spread eagled across the back of the cloud of yellow smoke as it chugged its way upwards amongst the rainbows.

He looked up in time to see Roshi's entrance, standing poised on what looked like a fiercely spinning turtle shell that soared through the air beside Nimbus. The old man gave another 'V' sign and cackled,

"Magic, my boy! Don't tell me you don't know about magic."

Robert just rolled over and laughed, and laughed and laughed and laughed with tears rolling down his cheeks and dancing in the slipstream they left behind them. As he bid his home goodbye, flying into sunset.

His journey had begun.


End file.
